


Hair

by EndoratheWitch



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/F, Hair, Lesbian, Lesbian Character, Love Story, POV Lesbian Character, ghost - Freeform, ghost of a lover, ghost story, haunted
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-30
Updated: 2015-09-30
Packaged: 2018-04-24 04:20:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4905277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EndoratheWitch/pseuds/EndoratheWitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>A ghost story I wrote last year</p>
    </blockquote>





	Hair

**Author's Note:**

> A ghost story I wrote last year

I find her hair everywhere. No matter how much I clean, there is always a strand, twirled around something, laying there reminding me I am not alone in the house. It is the hair that frightens me the most, not the sounds, the whispered voices or the footsteps, but the hair. The hair is real, I can touch it, feel it, see it. How, I do not understand, but everything else can be dismissed, rationalized, but her hair will not let me forget—the house will always be hers. 

I found the house by accident. I was walking through an old neighborhood admiring the houses on the streets. It was like walking through a strange portal, not quite in the past, but for moments looking at the houses of another age, one felt as if they were on the edge of a different time. I was there looking, just enjoying the crisp winter air, the houses standing like lovely old women, when I saw the “for rent” sign in the yard of a large house with a porch that wrapped around one side and a small tower in the middle of the roof, the fading colors of dark green and brown looking lost and alone among the more loved homes. I stood there unbelieving in my luck and soon I was moving into my new home. 

The house was large for one person, but I did not care and the price had been right. It was a beautiful house built in 1901, but despite being empty for the last year or so the inside was still well maintained, as if some family had just stepped out. I wanted the space after a failed relationship, problems at school, I needed time to feel myself out, space to breathe my own air. I did not immediately realize I was not alone. The house was old, the sounds it made just part of the charm and the consequences of living in a large, older house alone. The first hair I found was during the moving in process and I did not immediately realize that the hair was not mine. My partner had long dark hair, I was used to finding it; she had such lovely hair. 

My hair was long and auburn, the two colors mingled together, long strands of hair one straight, one curling around it. Two people with long hair, it happens you find hair here and there. It never registers. But now I was alone, my auburn curls long and alone. But I did not notice at first that I was not alone. I found the first hair in the bathroom wrapped around the faucet. I was cleaning, a few boxes standing in the bathroom waiting for their places to be ready for the items inside.  I remember thinking it odd, but not out of the ordinary and I kept cleaning. I was accustomed to finding hair, between my long hair and her long hair, my friend, my lover no more, hair was found all the time. So it did not occur to me that finding the hair of someone else in a house in which I lived alone was odd. 

I remember the dreams that started not long after I found the first hair. The woman that came to me in the dreams looked similar to my love, her hair long and dark, her eyes a deep brown, but that is where the similarities ended. When I first saw her she was only a shadow, movement sliding from the corner of my eye. The next time would be a feeling as I was lying in bed, a presence moving through the room, light, airy, but there none the less. I would open my eyes and see a shadow move along the wall, darker shadow against the absence of light. The next morning I found her hair, twisted in a lovers knot on my table like a gift. 

It was after this that I started to talk to her. I felt strange at first, crazy, but I was lonely, my heart broken and this presence seemed not exactly friendly, but there, needing my acknowledgment. As I brushed my own hair looking at my pale reflection in the mirror I would speak, tell her of myself, my heartache, my reasons for moving into her home. While she never spoke back, her hair would be there in places through the house, telling me she was there. 

As the days grew into weeks, I saw her more and more, her features still hidden but her presence would start to wrap around me at night, then during the day until every moment I could feel her. There was a moment of fear, what had I invited into my life? What would happen with this? She was dead, I was alive. But she listened, she did not judge and unlike my lover, she was here. Then one day, I knew what would happen. There was only one way this could end. 

One night I sat curled in bed, the room cold and I saw the lock of hair under the door to my bedroom. It was her, my silent confidant, my quiet, cold roommate or was she more than a roommate or a phantom? As I watched the shadow start to flow under my bedroom door, as I knew I was inviting her in, I knew what I must do to finally really see her. I lay back on the bed and opened my arms whispering into the darkness, “I love you.” I closed my eyes and felt the soft tickle of long hair against my cheek, then the icy chill of something laying over me. It became harder and harder to breathe, I could feel the ice entering my veins, slowing my heart, freezing my blood. I panicked, my eyes flying open and I saw her, not just her hair, but her and I screamed.


End file.
